


Feels Like Home

by otherthingsonhold



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Braids, F/M, Fix-It, Hair Braiding, I don't know what other tags to up, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Spoilers, That's it, ben braiding rey's hair, not much spoilers tbh just like one reference, that's the whole fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:41:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22131229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otherthingsonhold/pseuds/otherthingsonhold
Summary: The intimacy of hair braiding or how Ben Solo tries to continue the Alderaanian tradition of hair braiding
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 5
Kudos: 123





	Feels Like Home

**Author's Note:**

> As a fair warning I wrote this in about three hours and didn't really proofread. I should've put more context but also lazy. So I'm sorry in advance.

“Is ... “he hesitates, the strands of her hair equally parted between his finger, “Is this alright?”

She’s sitting cross legged in front of him. Eyes closed and breath stable. As if she was meditating on the very rock she started her training on. She hums in agreement, trying her best not to nod and mess up the hair Ben had already started to section off.

He sits behind her, legs crossed just like her, his eye line just passing over her head. In his hands, three strands of hair he had started to braid. Over, under, over, under. It’s been a while since he’s done this. The process not a complicated one, yet his hands shake with fear.

Fear he will mess it up, fear he won’t do her any justice. Fear he won’t do his mother justice. He wants to Rey to look like royalty, that is what she is to him after all.

“What will it look like?” She asks, wonder in her tone, “when you’re done with it. I’ve never tried it myself, I don’t know what to do with this other than tie it up.” She carefully curls a free strand near the front between her thumb and forefinger. Maybe it’s nerves, or maybe it’s just the comfort of his company that keeps her talking.

“It will look beautiful.” He wants to say, but he doesn’t want to give her any false promises either. It’s been so long since he has braided his own hair, let alone anyone else's. A skill his mother had taught him from a young age, though he wonders if she had taught him just so he could do her hair one day, when she was too tired to do it herself. He wouldn’t have minded it; he would have enjoyed every moment of it. The thought lingers in the back of his mind, would his mother let him touch her hair, after everything that happened? It was not a thought he indulged himself in when put on the mantle of Kylo Ren, or rather maybe it was a thought he indulged himself in a little too much.

“Ben?” She opens one eye, not that she could whip around and look at his face, but she does it all the same. “Are you alright?”

He murmurs a quiet “Yes” behind his worried smile. His fingers slowly going back to work. Her hair is soft and light, thinner than his and yet he knew it would look marvelous in braids all the same. He plans to style her hair the way the old Alderaanian monarchy did. He’d taken the idea from old images of the braids women had worn, with a little artistic silence he fashions the braids into a tight bun.

“Ben.” She says again, this time deeper, as if calling out to him. She tries to move around, but when her hair is tugged slightly by her movement, she stops. She reaches back, first feeling out where she can touch him, knowing any sort of contact would bring him a sense of peace. Her hand lands on his thigh, though the reach is awkward, she leaves her hand there to comfort him. She can feel his hand trembling, his nerves up to his chest, “There’s nothing to be worried about. It’ll look beautiful.”

He nods, though she doesn’t see it. His hands trying to work without thinking about his emotions.

“I don’t know how it’s supposed to look” she laughs, “even if it isn’t how you want it, I wouldn’t know.”

For that he laughs, the pressure is somewhat lifted and yet he cannot stop but think of how she is letting up do her hair. He wonders if she understands how special this is for him.

“I will make sure they don’t get in the way when we’re training.” Is all he says as he pulls back some stray pieces and tuck them into her hair. He thinks of the many ways he wants to do her hair, from the braids that would hang from a tight bun, to a braided halo that would sit on top of her hair. He hopes she will let him do this again.

Her smile is soft; no one has ever been so considerate to her. She fears that the others only revered her, put her on a pedestal she never asked for, they rarely look upon her without the title of a Jedi. Though Finn and Poe treat her as an equal, everything is different with Ben. As if she finally is just Rey. And nothing else about her mattered.

He is so delicate with her hair, trying his best not to tug too hard and yet keep the braid tight so it stays in place.

He puts the last of her braids in place, and places both of his hands on her shoulders. She spins around with a wide grin on her cheeks. Her teeth gleaming white as they face each other.

“Beautiful.” He says, tucking another stray piece behind her ear. He pats it down to keep it in place. Her hand meets his, behind her ear, the stray piece never moving again.

“Thank you.” She says, wanting nothing more than to live in this moment, “For everything.”

She stands up to find a mirror, to see what her hair has become. When she catches it, she stares in amazement, never seeing her hair so intricate before, wondering if one needed special hands to put it together. It was pulls away from her face, perfect for training and yet still elegant enough to show that some effort was put into it. She smiled as she couldn’t stop staring at herself.

“How do I put it down?” A flash of hurt washes over him, and she must have caught it because she replies so fast as if cutting through her own train of thought. “When I want to wash it?” Her intonation goes up in question, not sure of the traditions of Alderaan. She questions if even that is polite to do. Her hands instantly go to her newly formed braided bun, she searches his face for an answer, “or do I just keep it up?” Her cheeks are warm from embarrassment.

“Take it down whenever you wish.” He says, and adds nothing more behind his tight expression.

* * *

She keeps it up for a few days, she almost wants to keep them for longer just to save her from the awkwardness of not knowing what to do. But her hair was full of dirt and oil now, the braids have started to unravel themselves and she decided it was time.

“Ben?” She catches him in his quarters. She’s almost hiding her body behind the door, like the innocent scared child she never got to be. His room fell right at the end of all the others, a little nook just for him.

He’s sitting up on his bed, a book in his hands, his eyes fixed on the words. When he hears his name his ears instantly perk up. His eyes linger up above. When he notices it’s her, his eyes widen and he almost slams the book down in front of him, as if he doesn’t see her on a daily basis.

“I’m sorry.” She says.

“Please” he stands up as she moves closer to him, the book and its contents now forgotten. She suddenly feels under dressed, like she should be in her best when she meets him, the situation of his room made it feel more intimate. As if she was baring into his private space without permission.

“Is everything alright?” his hand goes to her arm in comfort, his eyes never leaving hers. She’s absolutely mesmerized by his gaze, though she’s met him a thousand times through the force, it’s nothing like being in the same room.

“Yes.” She manages to get out, “I just-” her cheeks glow red. “I want to take my hair down.” She has to add a slight laugh to get it out, laughing at her own embarrassment. But when she looks up, he’s not laughing along. Instead there’s something rather intense about his features. She fears she has upset him.

“I need to wash it,” she clarifies, her next sentence said so fast to make sure he doesn’t take offense, “but I want you to do it again. When I’m done.”

His features mellow out. A smile starts to grow on his lips. “You can wash it.” He says almost without a care; he too is wondering why she has come all this way just to inform him of when she wanted to clean herself. Though the thought does turn his cheek a slight crimson, he tries to hide it behind his amusement.

“How do I-?” She asks, “Is there a way I’m supposed to-?” She doesn’t finish any of her sentences, wishing him to fill in the blanks for her.

“Just like any other knot. There is no special way, if that is what you’re asking.” He pieces it together, maybe the tenderness and importance of the braid had made her wonder if there was a special ritual that was needed to take them down. Her appreciation for their significance only adds to the long list of things he admires about her. 

“Oh.” Is all she replies. Feeling silly for even asking, she quickly plans her escape from this strange show of humiliation. But before she can step away he asks with such shyness in his voice.

“But can I-” he pauses, not sure what he’s asking himself. He finds himself reaching out for her, even before he can ask the question, “can I take it down for you?”

“Why?” She doesn’t think about what she’s asking.

“On Alderaan, letting someone else take down your braids for you means that,” He looks at her braids, he’s surprised at how they still hold up after all her constant training. He tries his best to avoid her eyes and find the right words, “you trust them, and that they care about you and you care about them. The act is … intimate. It is done between people that love-” he stops himself in the middle of his cultural lesson.

She doesn’t know how to answer herself, find her hand has gone up to touch her braids after learning what significance they could have. When the silence has stretched on too long, he starts again, but still avoiding her gaze.

“If you will allow me,” Rey watches Ben’s Adam’s apple move as he gulps down his fear, “I would like to take down your braids for you. Tonight, after dinner.”

“I will see you then.” She doesn’t hesitate.

“Is that a yes?” and yet he does.

But his finally has the courage to look into his eyes. And within them he sees such need.

“I’ll see you tonight Ben.” She looks at him, from his eyes to his lips. Then walks towards the door, taking one last look at him from behind her shoulder, and leaves his quarters. 

* * *

He’s taller than her, at least a head taller, enough for him to look down at her braids without having to tiptoe. “May I?”

She nods, as if nervous herself. Though she might not fully understand the implications of one taking down another’s braids, she feels it in him, the emotions so prevalent in his chest. A mixture of fear and excitement. 

He reaches for the top of her head, finding one a pins which he had set himself, and slowly pulling it out. His hand shaking as he tries to grip onto the pin. Ever so slowly, one by one her braids fall out of their hold and onto her shoulders. He runs his hands down a braid, feeling her soft strands along his fingertips. He sets down the pins, moving onto her braids, pulling away the bands that hold them together, and brushing his fingers through her tresses, loosen them from their days of confinement. He goes through each carefully, not to pull on any knots that could hurt her. When he’s done with all of them, he runs his fingers through her hair once again, letting them fall to her shoulders, brushing her skin. 

“Thank you.” She says, watching him be mesmerized by her presence 

“Can you leave it?” He asks, not thinking as the words fall from his mouth, “wash it in the morning, leave it like this for a few hours.” Her hair is now wavy; with the days of tight knots making her straight hair hold a curl, they frame her face differently now. Not better or worse, just different. How he wishes to come home to this every day.

“How do I look?”

He laughs, taken aback at a question he’s never thought to come from her. She isn’t truly concerned with how she looked, only she wanted to know what he thought of the mess he had created. She wonders if he likes her like this. But his smile says it all, the way his eyes almost close as his smile fills his cheeks, he leans in, his nose almost touching hers. “Like a queen.”

“Do queens leave their hair like this?”

“Only when going to bed, I assume.”

“Then let me rest.” She jokes with him, and he echoes her laughter. Maybe this was their place in the galaxy. Not training and fighting, giving every drop of sweat and blood. But just here, in a small bedroom, in the corner of the base. Laughing at the sight of unruly hair, and smiling until their cheeks hurt. Here in the middle of nowhere, with just each other for company.

“Stay with me tonight, Rey.” His eyes beg her, though she knows he’s not expecting her to agree. “Please.”

Her eyes search for something in his, he can’t think straight enough to even think about what she might be looking for. But for a quick second he watches her eyes move down to his lips and-

Her lips are on his. Instinctively he reaches the back of her head for to support her and deepen the kiss as much as he can. They’re young and hungry and have been waiting for this moment since they left Exegol. Her hands find his face to hold him in closer, only letting both of them get minimal amount of air to breath before rushing back into the kiss. His tongue finds its way to her lips and she meets him in the middle.

They break apart with their chests heaving and the wonders of kissing clouding their mind. Why haven’t they done this since Exegol? It felt so good then, why haven’t they tried it again?

“I was hoping we’d do that again.”

“I didn’t know when you’d want it.”

“Whenever you need a reminder that you’re home.”

“So will you stay?” he asks gently, as his finger runs up and down her arm. “Please?”

“I never thought you’d ask”

* * *

“Come to bed, Rey.”

She slips into the covers and feels the warmth of Ben engulf her. She crawls between his arms and finds a spot that fits her perfectly. He pulls the blanket over her, making sure she’s snug and warm inside their little cocoon. She buries her head into him and closes her eyes.

“Can you braid my hair in the morning?” She whispers into his chest.

She can feel him smile against her head, “of course, sweetheart. Every day, forever.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tbh I wanted Rey in sort of Leia's Bespin hair but without the bun, but then I realised that it probably would be annoying when training. 
> 
> Also, not gonna lie, I have a hard time writing Rey. I feel like she is deeply under-developed (especially with TROS not giving us anything to work with) and I just wish we got more of her in the movie.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Find me on tumblr (same username) if you want to talk Reylo anytime


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